Endeavor: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by S. E. Rose

  She glances up at me just as I go to turn and gives me a smile and that’s when I know. I’m fucking in love with this woman. It’s not even been a month yet, and I am punch drunk in love.

  She looks back down, but I continue to watch her. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I whisper as I turn and sit in a chair, trying to come up with a game plan for how we can capture the stalker and not get anyone hurt. I suppose more brilliant minds than mine are working on this, but I refuse to be a back-row spectator to my life. For the first time in a long time, I’m ready to fight for something, and nothing is going to get in my way.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Emma

  The day is a blur of studying, naked time with Grady, and driving back to the city. Grady fills me in on the new plan, which involves us staying at his mother’s penthouse downtown. It’s not exactly as convenient as my apartment, but it’s tolerable. After helping me pack some things, he drives us there to get settled. I’m unprepared for the entourage of security personnel when we arrive.

  “Mr. Daniels, the team would like to go over things with you,” a man says as we enter the penthouse. Grady groans.

  “Dean, can you give me and my girlfriend five seconds to put our things down?” I try to cover my grin at the use of the term “girlfriend” again. I do have to say that this weekend solidified many things for me. I feel like I saw a part of Grady that no one else gets to see and something about that changed things for me. He’s not just a bad-boy rocker or the son of some famous people, he’s uniquely himself, quirks and all.

  I have texts from Kate, my mom, my sister, and Quinlan, plus a few emails from my professors. “You go do what you need to do. I have to reply to some emails for school,” I tell Grady as we set our bags down in what appears to be a guest suite. It’s a rather large room with its own bathroom and balcony. I look around. “Are you sure your mother doesn’t mind?” I ask for the tenth time today.

  Grady steps next to me and leans down to kiss my forehead. “Stop worrying. It’s fine.”

  His phone buzzes, and he looks down. His face morphs into a grin.

  “What?” I ask.

  “It’s Jason. He wants to try to meet up this week.”

  I grin back at him. “That’s great.”

  He looks at me and pauses. “You want to meet him?”

  “Really? Are you sure? I won’t be offended if you want to take some more time, just you and him.”

  “No, I’d like you to meet him. It’d make it seem more official,” he says with a wink as he starts typing on his phone while walking back to talk with his security team, leaving me wondering if he meant his brother and him or me and him being more official.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m walking down the hallway. I hear voices coming from a room off to the side. This penthouse is crazy big, larger than a normal house. I peek around a corner and find an office. Grady is sitting at the head of a large conference table, looking very official. Three men sit around the table, including the one who he called Dean.

  Grady looks up and beckons me inside. “Gentlemen, this is my girlfriend, Emma Baldwin.”

  A slew of hellos fills the otherwise quiet room.

  “Please come sit with us. I think it’s important that you hear what they have to say,” Grady insists. I enter the room and take a seat next to him in a chair he pulls out for me.

  I listen as the men begin to speak about all the security protocols. They show us layouts of his home. They show him how to access live video from his phone, the whereabouts of all the motion sensors, and a detailed list of other items.

  I hear a doorbell, and I jump, startled by the unexpected sound.

  “Excuse us for just a moment,” Grady says as he stands and motions for me to follow him. I do, nodding at the men as I leave. I feel very out of my element with all of the security talk and this huge penthouse.

  Grady opens the door before I can ask what is going on. The moment he does, I know I’m meeting his brother. Jason has Grady’s eyes.

  Grady hugs his brother. “Come in, I’ve ordered us food, but it’s not here yet. I have to meet with some staff, but I figured you could have a drink with my girlfriend while we wait. Emma, this is Jason. Jason, Emma.”

  We shake hands and he gives me a smile. “Nice to meet you,” he says cheerfully.

  “Likewise,” I reply. I look to Grady because if I’m supposed to play hostess, I’m at a total loss.

  He reads my mind. “There’s a wine and beer fridge in the kitchen.” He points toward it, and we all walk into the kitchen.

  I nod. “You want anything?” I ask Grady as I open the wine and beer fridge that he’s pointed to.

  “I’ll get something in a minute. Feel free to make yourself at home. I’ll let you two get to know each other while I finish up this meeting,” he says to Jason as he heads back to the office.

  Jason sits down in the kitchen, which looks straight out of a magazine with white modern cabinets and some sort of white stone countertop.

  “Beer or wine?” I ask him.

  “Beer is fine,” he says.

  I pull two different types out, and he chooses one. I take a guess at a drawer near the fridge and find a bottle opener.

  “Sorry,” I squeak. I lean toward him as I set the bottle down. “I literally just got here today. I don’t know where anything is, and I feel like a fish out of water.”

  Jason chuckles. “It’s all good.” He looks around the kitchen. “So, this is how the other half lives, huh?”

  I follow his gaze, taking in not just the pristine, expensive-looking kitchen but also a family room with white, expensive-looking furniture. Blythe apparently isn’t big on color or maybe her decorator isn’t.

  “I suppose it is,” I agree as I open the other bottle. I hold mine up and we clink glasses. “To new acquaintances,” I say.

  He raises his glass and takes a sip. “So, what do you do?” he asks me.

  I launch into some stuff about school. He tells me a little about himself, including that he wants to go back to school for either a medical degree or a law degree, so he’s working a few jobs to save up for it.

  Our conversation flows easily as we talk about things we like to do. I enjoy talking with him. He seems super chill.

  “So, why are you staying here?” he asks me, looking around again.

  I hesitate because I don’t want to scare him, and I don’t know if Grady has said anything. But I’m saved when I hear Grady’s voice answer, “Some issues with a stalker at home. This place is a fortress compared to my house.”

  I watch as Jason studies the rooms. It must be so strange to find out you have a sibling.

  “Well, I hope it’s nothing serious,” he adds, looking back at Grady.

  “It’s fine. It happens here in Hollywood.” Grady downplays it, and I frown. I don’t like keeping secrets, but I also know their relationship is new. I’m in unchartered territory, so I keep silent.

  The rest of the evening is pleasant as we eat Chinese takeout. I watch Grady and his brother interact. Their similarities are astounding. Even the way they hold their glasses with their first two fingers together is oddly the same.

  By ten o’clock, Jason is yawning. “I should get home. But I’m glad you called me. This was great.”

  “Absolutely, we should do something again this week, if you have time,” Grady says. We all stand and walk to the front door.

  “I’d love to”—Jason pauses as at the door—“maybe Thursday night? There’s a new Mexican restaurant over in Arlington Heights.”

  “Yeah, that sounds great,” Grady says. “Text me a time, and I’ll be there.”

  “You should come too, Emma,” Jason says to me with a smile.

  “Uh, yeah, sure. I’d love to, I mean if you guys want me to tag along? I don’t want to rain on the parade.”

  “Not at all,” Jason assures me as he steps into the elevator. “See you guys on Thursday.”

  The doors close and Grady s
huts the penthouse door. “What do you think?” he asks me.

  “I like him. He’s sort of awkward and nerdy. He’s different than you, but he seems nice. I’m glad you invited him over.”

  “I’m glad you approve. I’m a little nervous about Mom meeting him. I suppose that will happen in time, but I’m glad someone other than me has had a chance to talk to him.”

  I yawn.

  “Let’s go get some sleep. You look exhausted,” Grady says as he wraps an arm around my shoulder.

  “Oh, I don’t know why, it’s not like my boyfriend spent all weekend making love to me,” I say and then freeze at the words I just spoke. “Making love.” And “boyfriend.” I cringe hoping he doesn’t read into it.

  “Well, I could make love to you again,” he says as he kisses my neck. I sigh at his relaxed voice.

  “You might be able to talk me into it,” I admit as we enter the guest suite, shutting the door behind us.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Grady

  After enjoying my girlfriend thoroughly all night and again this morning, a security agent named Carl accompanied her to school.

  And here I am, sitting at my mother’s conference table after a grueling morning of going through album issues with Kellen from the recording studio after which I had a fitting for some clothes I need to wear for a shoot for the album cover. My publicist, Clyde, and his assistant, Wilson, stopped by to discuss things with my brother. Wilson still creeps me out with the way he watches me like I’m some sort of alien.

  And don’t forget my manager and his assistant popping by to check out the new digs. Dean has a secured video conference call set up with Benson, Rhett, Max, me, and Calvin. Calvin is sitting in his office along with a record executive from our label who suddenly gives a shit about us after a few news outlets reported on the stalker issue.

  “Thanks, everyone, for being available to meet with us today,” Dean begins. “We’ve been working closely with the LAPD, particularly Detective Benson, and we have some information we wanted to debrief you on.” He presses the touchscreen monitor on the wall and a report pops up. “You should now all have this report. We ran an analysis through our software program that was designed by former intelligence officers. It has presented us with what we believe is a clear description of the stalker.”

  I can see all the small screens with everyone else on the call and their gazes are locked on the shared screen with the report.

  “We believe we are looking for a white male, age twenty-five to thirty. He is likely educated, most likely has a college degree and work experience in some area of biology and/or medicine. He may have worked as a technician at an animal hospital or a doctor’s office. He likely does not openly seem unusual. He may actually present as friendly and outgoing. We believe his obsession is with the band, but predominately with Grady.” All eyes glance up at what I assume is the square with my face in it on their screens. “This obsession likely started prior to the band formation, when Grady was racing, although now it is possible it’s morphed into something more. We aren’t sure of the underlying motive at this time. At first, we thought it might be a case of intimate stalking and that the individual may know Grady, but considering the most recent events, there is a firm possibility that the stalker is psychotic. This means the individual is delusional and their actions may be erratic to us but make sense to him. We’ve cross-matched the database with individuals known to Grady. There are a few individuals that work with the band that presented as possible suspects. Detective Benson is working on interviewing each of them. At present time, we can’t rule out a possibility of a delusional fan. The fan may even have been a fan of Ken Daniels and transitioned the focus of their obsession to Grady. That being said, the security plan will continue to be in place until the case is solved. Following that, we will re-evaluate protocols and move on from there. Any questions?”

  The video feeds are silent as everyone processes what we’ve just learned.

  “What about any partial prints from the break-in at my house?” Rhett asks.

  “Unfortunately, whoever broke in was very clever and wore gloves. We’re trying to use some new software to pull a possible full face for facial recognition, but that software takes time to fill in the missing parts of the face,” Dean explains. “We’ll keep this as our weekly debriefing time and add in any additional meetings as they become needed.”

  Everyone mutters goodbyes. I continue to stare at the blank screen on the wall.

  “You alright, Mr. Daniels?” Dean asks me.

  I turn to him, my hands folded in my lap, one leg crossed over the other. “I need this resolved ASAP, Dean. I mean it. I’ll kick extra money if that helps.”

  “It’s not an issue of money,” Dean explains. “This guy…he’s good. He’s been planning this for a while. His moves are meticulous and calculated. This hasn’t come up in any of the profiling yet, but part of me believes he might have either a police or military background. His recent actions and knowing how to avoid detection seem to fit such a profile.”

  “Have you mentioned this to the profilers?” I ask.

  “Yes. Their system hasn’t ruled that out, but they aren’t confident in the statistical numbers related to police or military background. That’s why it wasn’t formally presented to you today. It may be by next week, but I don’t like waiting that long.”

  “Dean, if you have thoughts like this, share them with the whole group,” I demand.

  Dean nods. “Yes, sir. My apologies. These briefs are only meant to provide you with statistically approved data. Bryce prefers not to speculate.”

  “I understand that. He may own your firm, but he isn’t the client,” I point out. Dean nods.

  “No, sir. You are absolutely correct.”

  “So, say this military option is correct. Do any of the suspects meet that criteria?” I ask.

  “Well, your publicist’s PA was in ROTC in college, and there’s a kid that works at the record label that just got out of the military, but he’s twenty-two, in my opinion, he’s too young to match the profile.”

  “OK, well, thank you.”

  “One last thing, I will be heading down to confirm the identity of our new security detail for you. His name is Trevor Kingsley. I have to confirm identification before he can enter the building. I have all your video and motion sensors in place. Just press star three on your phone, and it will connect you straight to me. It shouldn’t be more than three minutes,” Dean says.

  I give him a look. “Dean, I think I’ll be fine for three minutes. Plus, this place is like Fort Knox. No one is getting in here without you and like forty other guys knowing it.”

  “Point taken. Anything else, sir?” Dean asks.

  I shake my head and leave. I’m half-expecting Dean to salute me as I walk out of the room.

  I head into the kitchen, grabbing a beer, and I decide to sprawl out on the massive bed in my mother’s guest room and watch television. But something draws me to my mother’s suite. I walk through the massive room, with its fourteen-foot ceilings and crisp white furniture. The only color in the entire room is from five throw pillows and the three paintings on the walls. My father had let her decorate this place. She had wanted it all white. She says white is soothing. I find it barren, myself. The Malibu house he had more of a say in and his laid-back style shows at the house. But here, it’s my mother, through and through. I glide my hand along the long dresser as I walk toward the door.

  My hand stops first, blocked by objects. As my eyes follow my hand and focus, I jump back as though I’ve been electrocuted.

  “What the fuck?” I mutter to the empty room. I slowly reach out, stopping my hand midway as though the three items will bite me.

  My father’s wallet, keyring, and sunglasses sit in a neat row on the dresser. After he died, my mother placed them in the drawer, the only one she kept with his things after she eventually cleaned out his clothes and belongings from the room. It took her two years and my enco
uragement, but she finally did it. She claimed the one drawer had the things she just couldn’t part with, including those three items. He always left them in a row like that on this side of the dresser. The key to his first car was always pointing toward the wall, and they were always the middle object. The sunglasses and wallet were always at a diagonal. It made no sense and spoke completely to my father’s OCD, but it became a familiar thing to us. Something a loved one did every day, something insignificant that others wouldn’t notice, but we did. And when he was gone, it was just another small insignificant detail that we remembered and missed.

  No one here would know about this. And it wasn’t like this when we arrived here. Could Emma have moved them? No, there’s no way. No one would put things in this strange order and angle, only Dad. Hell, Mom and I are probably the only people on the planet that remember he did this. A shiver runs through my body. I look around the room as I call my mother.

  “Did you leave Dad’s wallet, keys, and sunglasses on the dresser?” I ask her before she even says hello.

  “N-no. Why?” she stammers, my question clearly catching her off guard.

  “They are here,” I state dryly. I take a photo and send them to her.

  “Oh my God!”

  “Mom, calm down. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

  “What if? You need to tell security, right now,” she demands.

  “I will,” I tell her. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” I hang up, but my words don’t reassure me. I open the dresser drawer to put the items away and it’s what’s inside that changes my demeanor.

  A yellow sticky note. I read the words.

  “To you, your father should be as a god. Was yours, Grady?”

  I drop the note and step back.

  I hear Dean come back into the apartment. “I’m back, Mr. Daniels, and I have Agent Kingsley with me.”

  “I-I’m in here,” I stammer as I take another step back from the offending paper.